A story of a multi billionaire businessman and his darkest obsession toward a girl who had honey brown orbs.his lustful desire toward her turned into something dangerous. He craved her body, now he wants her soul, her heart, he wants her everything...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
His words still hung in the air, filling the space between us with a desperation I hadn’t seen in him before. But I couldn’t care less. How dare he beg for forgiveness? How dare he ask for another chance?
I could still feel the sting of the slap against my palm, the way his cheek reddened under my hand, and yet it wasn't enough. Nothing I did could make up for the way he had broken me. The way he had torn my heart to pieces, stripped away my sense of trust, and left me to pick up the shards of a life that would never be whole again.
I stepped back, needing distance, needing air. I couldn’t breathe when he was close, couldn't think straight. The memories of his betrayal flooded my mind, the pain hitting me in relentless waves.
How many nights had I cried over him? How many days had I wished desperately wished that everything he said had been a lie, that the love I thought we shared had been real?
But it wasn’t. And now here he was, pleading with me like a man who had suddenly discovered what love meant. Too late. Too damn late.
"It’s not that simple," I finally said, my voice low but steady. "You can’t just walk in here and say you’ve changed. You don’t get to act like this is some mistake that can be undone. It’s not." He flinched at my words, and for a brief moment, I saw the man who had fooled me once before. But I wouldn’t be fooled again.
"Mihitha, please....." "No!" I snapped, louder this time, my fury taking control. "You don’t get to say my name like that. You don’t get to act like you care about me. I don’t need you. I don’t need anything from you."
My hands were shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage or exhaustion. Maybe both. I was so tired of fighting. So tired of hating him. But more than anything, I was tired of loving him.
Because, God help me, some part of me still did. And that part of me was dying every second he stood in front of me.
I could see his regret, feel it in the air around us, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t erase the months of manipulation, the lies, the way he had used me as nothing more than a pawn in his sick game of revenge. He had ruined me, and now he had the audacity to ask for forgiveness? To ask for my love?
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. This wasn’t just about me anymore. This was about my child.
Our child.
No, not ours. Mine.
"You talk about our baby like you care," I said, my voice sharp with bitterness. "But you don’t. You never cared about anyone but yourself. You think you can just walk back into my life and be a father? You think I’ll ever let you near my child after what you did to me?"
His face crumpled, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the man I thought he could have been the man who might have loved me if things had been different. But that man didn’t exist. Not really.
